


promises

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Engagement, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Courfeyrac proposes with a haribo ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	promises

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [kherrigan](http://kherrigan.tumblr.com/) for the prompt :>

Combeferre likes these lazy afternoons with Courfeyrac, when they're sprawled on their couch and it doesn't matter if the TV's playing in the background or not, because they're paying attention to absolutely nothing except for each other. No classes to rush off to, no exams to study for, no protests to plan just yet. Just Courfeyrac lying on top of him, his kisses sweet from the pack of Haribo rings they're sharing. 

Courfeyrac holds a ring between his teeth and wiggles his eyebrows at Combeferre suggestively.

"You're ridiculous," Combeferre tells him, but leans forward anyway. He knows that he indulges Courfeyrac far more often than he should, but he can't quite bring himself to mind when he's always rewarded with Courfeyrac's brilliant smiles. It's less the tug-of-war Courfeyrac wants and more of a deep kiss. Judging by his quiet moan, Courfeyrac doesn't particularly mind. Combeferre smiles into their kiss, his tongue sliding in and out of Courfeyrac's mouth in a slow, steady rhythm.

"You're _obscene_ ," Courfeyrac gasps out, when Combeferre loosens his grip enough that they can pull apart. "You look so innocent, and I forget just how filthy you can be."

"No you don't," Combeferre replies easily. "You keep telling me how it's your favourite thing about me."

" _One of_ my favourite things," Courfeyrac corrects. "I have many. Even if it took you a while to pick up on the fact that I wanted you."

"Well," Combeferre shrugs. "Even so. There were only so many times you could say _it's always the quiet ones_ and raise your eyebrow at me across the room before I realised it was a request."

"I love you," Courfeyrac laughs, touching their foreheads together. "You should marry me."

Combeferre's eyebrows rise. "What?"

"You heard me." Courfeyrac reaches into the packet of rings and holds one up in front of Combeferre seriously. "Marry me."

Combeferre bites his lower lip, but before Courfeyrac can second-guess himself, he holds his hand up. He doesn't know what to say, but Courfeyrac's bright smile says that he doesn't need to say a thing. 

The gummy ring is a snug fit, and it takes a while for Courfeyrac to make it sit the way he wants. Combeferre watches him, marvelling at the fact that this is his life, that he's living with his boyfriend of several years, now, and he's still not entirely sure if Courfeyrac is being serious or not but that doesn't quite matter. He wants to spend his entire life with Courfeyrac. He's known that for a long time. 

When Courfeyrac rests his head on Combeferre's chest, their hands find each other. Courfeyrac can't stop rubbing his index finger along the gummy ring and Combeferre presses a kiss into the dark curls with a smile. 

He eats the ring later, when Courfeyrac put one of his favourite movies on and settled back into Combeferre's arms. They fingers interlock and Courfeyrac's grip tightens for a moment before he turns to Combeferre with an affronted look.

"You just _ate your engagement ring_."

"Sorry," Combeferre murmurs, reaching for the pack and pulling another ring out. He slides it onto Courfeyrac's finger this time.

"Better." Courfeyrac mutters. His eyes go wide when Combeferre opens his mouth, tugging the ring off Courfeyrac's finger and eating it, too. "…Oh."

Combeferre smiles at him. They don't end up watching the movie after all but that's okay. They can both already recite it word for word.

«·»

They don't really talk about it after. Words like _engagement_ and _marriage_ just don't come up in their conversations, but every now and again, Courfeyrac will reach for Combeferre's hand, marker in hand, and colour in a dark circle around his left ring finger.

He does it when they're alone, he does it when they're with their friends, and sometimes that earns them raised eyebrows, but Combeferre ignores that. He responds by tying strips of thread, ribbon, whatever he has on hand, around Courfeyrac's finger. He rubs the pad of his thumb back and forth over Courfeyrac's finger, right where it meets his palm. He tries to imagine metal there, warmed by Courfeyrac's skin, by Combeferre's frequent touch. At home, Courfeyrac still insists on putting Haribo rings on Combeferre's finger. Combeferre still insists on eating them.

Their friends don't push, beyond the pointed looks—none more pointed than Enjolras—and Combeferre is grateful for that. He doesn't quite know how to broach the subject with any of them, let alone Courfeyrac. It's funny, in a terrible way, that he knows that they're both thinking the same thing, and neither of them know how to say it.

Until Courfeyrac has to buy a suit for his new job at a law firm. He takes Combeferre shopping with him and he walks out of the change room in a medium grey suit that fits him wonderfully, and the words come without a thought.

"I would marry you in that." 

Courfeyrac's mouth drops open, before he clears his throat and smiles, ten times as bright as usual. "Well, then."

He buys the suit, along with a brown suit for the office. Combeferre tries incredibly hard not to smile as he picks out his own charcoal three-piece suit and takes it to the counter.

They organise the rest without hesitation. They keep their guest list small, and find a place to hold it. The only thing they don't do together is the ring-shopping and Combeferre is half-tempted to ask Enjolras for help, but he goes alone. He looks at more rings than he can care to count, most of them blurring together in his memory until he finally decides on one. It's smooth. He brushes his thumb over it, and doesn't realise he's smiling until the salesgirl smiles back at him.

Their friends don't even feign surprise. Combeferre supposes that he can't blame them. Marius is only a little put out that he and Cosette weren't first. 

As the day comes closer, Combeferre lets Courfeyrac take over the planning. Courfeyrac loves parties, and it doesn't matter how many or how few guests there are. He'll make it lively, he'll make sure everyone enjoys themselves. Courfeyrac brightens up everyone's lives and Combeferre loves him so, so much for it. 

He isn't nervous when the day comes, because part of him thinks that this is something they should have done long before. Courfeyrac is buzzing with excitement and they smile when they wake up, knowing that by the end of the day, they'll be married. 

"Love you," Courfeyrac whispers, and pulls him out of bed by the hand. The rest of the morning is a rush of getting ready, taking photos with the groomsmen, rushing to get to the function hall in time because Enjolras insists on giving them a congratulatory speech before they're even married. 

Combeferre doesn't even know how he remembers his vows, because all he can think of is how wonderful Courfeyrac looks in front of him, how beautiful his smile is, how he's going to spend the rest of his life making sure he sees it as much as possible.

Then they're sliding gold rings onto each other's fingers and Courfeyrac looks up at him with a grin. "You're not allowed to eat this one, okay?"

Combeferre laughs, kissing Courfeyrac before he's told that he can. Courfeyrac's lips are spread into a smile, and they hold onto each other's hands. Combeferre can feel Courfeyrac's thumb rubbing across the gold band on his finger. He kisses Courfeyrac again, and does the same.


End file.
